Lies
by Alex20
Summary: Lies, there are lots of different lies.
1. Chapter 1

Lies

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, language, plots, or locations from Fringe. Fox Network holds all rights to Fringe and this story is not created for profit.

Summary: Lies, there are lots of different lies.

Notes:

First attempt at fiction writing in a long time, also un-betaed so all comments will be welcome.

* * *

Lying here as the lights seem to dim around me, I can't help but think about one of the first lies we are ever told. There is nothing to fear in the dark, there is nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light. There are lots of variations, but they all come down to the idea that the dark is benign.

Yeah, right.

The lights seem to be so weak now, or maybe I don't have the strength to keep my eyes open anymore. Humans like the light, a basic human condition. Ever since we learned that in the dark, we are vulnerable. This was a basic truth for millennia, that in the light you were safer. Then we thought we got smart. Humanity is not nearly as evolved as it likes to think. I always knew the dark held danger, for a long time I was part of that danger.

Walter knew that the dark was dangerous.

Olivia learned that the dark was dangerous.

The others knew on a primal level that something was in the dark.

We, as a species, like to fool ourselves about it all.

--

It's cold as well as dark now. My fingers no longer respond the feeling leeched out of them by the cold in the darkness.

--

Our team started, properly started on a lie. The emotional blackmail just added to the lie. She stood there and lied to me. Maybe it was my ego being stroked just a little by the pretty blonde back when I didn't know her. Maybe I did feel a little guilty about my father. A lie none the less.

She said I was needed. Without me, they couldn't have Walter. That was the need. Lying here, in the wet grass, my blood slowly flowing out the wound in my stomach, my legs broken, yet feeling little pain, I fully realised the extent of the lie.

I wasn't needed. This was the damned US Government. They and their beloved Patriot Act and all those other little powers the agencies have could easily have got access to Walter. They had access to far better trained people than me to work with him, far more suited to his wild eccentricities and mental state.

The base of the lie was her. She was avoiding responsibility. Everyone thinks of her as the responsible agent, a good agent, a bit damaged and wary but a good agent all the same.

That was a lie. She was a loose cannon. She dressed it up, played on everyone, even me as been driven and caring about the work but she was a loose cannon. She avoided a basic responsibility by palming it neatly off to me.

With me in place, I was responsible for Walter and all that entails. I had to deal with his behaviours and constantly clean up misunderstandings with others while she 'concentrated' on the cases. It was neat for her, she gets access whenever she wants to Walter but never pays that cost.

For me, it is hell. I have to smooth over ever crack he causes. He may be brilliant but even before his mental state worsened, he wasn't a people person. As a father he was bad, with others terrible. She realised this off the bat and decided that she didn't want to be responsible for him. If I weren't around Broyles probably would have had her responsible, she knows it because it was her idea to bring him into the fold.

As I said, she lied, and kept lying.

--

Damn, why isn't anyone looking for me?

--

I'm sure someone must have noticed I'm missing by now.

Hell they practically only have to come out the lab to find me.

I said to Olivia I would be at the Federal Building by three o'clock.

I told Walter and Astrid where I was going.

It's six now, three hours with no contact.

At least I can still hear as a radio nearby blares out the news.

I can't move, can't yell.

It's so cold, so dark.

--

Trust is important. I knew that, everyone who works a con, knows that you need the other person to trust you while you work at them. Conmen are expert at building trust up, we do it without the other person knowing so they let their guard down. Then we pounce. The best of us aren't noticed until a long time after.

Trust is important to a team. Maybe that's why we don't function on all cylinders. We lack trust. We say we trust each other. I even mean it, most of the time. She never does.

Like a damned puppy I've followed her, I thought we were building something. Not just work but as something else.

I realised too late. She'll never listen at the important points; she'll only listen to herself. A lot of it is selfishness. She has to be the one, she has to have control, and she has to be in charge. She's a basket case and selfish. She uses us and we basically live at her beck and call.

Even Astrid, a member of her own agency is treated like dirt by her when she gets on one of her crusades.

Don't get me wrong, there are times that obsessions and drive are needed but you have to learn to balance that. Otherwise, bad things happen, otherwise you end up like Walter. Walter, I'm sure as a scientist back in the day, would have been Olivia's equivalent in the scientific landscape. Now he can barely function in the real world while remaining a brilliant mind.

Damn it, why hasn't she looked for me? She's the agent. She probably thought I skipped out on the meeting. She doesn't trust me to even keep a meeting time.

--

I can't even be sarcastic or detached now. I always wondered how I would face death. I always hoped I wouldn't know and that it'd be quick. This is anything but. For five hours, in the cold weather with lingering wounds was not quick. If they hadn't broken my legs, or cuffed my hands, I probably could have dragged myself to help.

Unfortunately, they knew how to make it last, how to make it slow just to play with your head. It was also a message to the others.

--

Experiences, our joys, our pains, all come together to form our personalities, our forms. Each person is a unique individual. Each person faces unique trials, each trial building their character a little at a time. A person is the product of everything they experience to that point and will always grow beyond it. Listen to me, I'm dying and I choose now to get philosophical.

Everyone on the team has their problems, their pain. At some other point in time, I could give you a breakdown of each person on the team. Admittedly, that's not very likely now.

Olivia is a case of someone thinking that they are defined only by their pains and because of this they have it worse than everyone else. Yes, she has a whole host of issues, stepfather, the drug trials by Bell and Walter, her former partner being a traitor. But she's a coward, she took the easy route out.

Ironic me saying that, but I was forced to change and change I have. I'm not perfect and still would love to get away from this forever. The thing is I don't, I've changed, allowed myself to grow beyond what I was.

Olivia doesn't. She's so caught up in herself and thinks that it entitles her. It's always her call, her issues that come to the fore. Her problems, she now uses as a shield against real life.

She lies, says she is fine and copes fine. It's so blatantly not the case, I can't believe they let her continue as an agent. The case with the transformation serum and Conrad is a perfect example of the subtle emphasis she puts on it being about her and screw everyone else. All because of her issues.

Don't get me wrong, she has problems but she's not alone like that.

Her stepfather was a real piece of work, but at least she was able to take an action. What about the little girl who couldn't get a gun? What about her issues? What about the little boy who sees his mother abused, himself abused and beaten for just existing? In some ways even with all that happened Olivia actually knew she took a stand and had that opportunity. Lots of kids never can take that opportunity or even worse they take it and it doesn't work out. The gun misfires and the abuser isn't injured. What happens to that child?

Drug trials happen all the time and bad things happen. Hell, at least she got out of it healthy. Not everyone was as lucky. Some drugs leave the test subjects blind, insane or dead. She does however often, especially recently beat Walter down with Cortexiphan trials. At first, you could understand it but now she is vicious with it. She berates a broken man about things he can't remember. Things that seventeen years in an asylum have muddled and removed, things that brain surgery may have affected. She needs Walter but lately it seems it is for a punching bag. Yes, Walter was wrong. Walter did a lot of things wrong, especially with regards to myself, his own son. However, I've learned to not berate the man for things he can't remember, for things he can't change now. She hasn't, she thinks her problems give her leeway to be like that.

I don't think they'll find me. It's completely dark now.

--

Do I lie to myself? Do I tell myself that they'll find me? That, maybe, I'll be saved?

I wish could have been a better man, forgiven Walter for everything. I'm not that a good man, I'm not sure I am a good man at all.

I hope Olivia doesn't get Walter killed.

I hope Olivia doesn't get herself killed.

I wish I could have been a better man, a better person.

If I were, maybe things would have been different, maybe I could have gotten through to her.

Even now, I come back to her.

My world seems to revolve round her.

The last lie I think of is that love and hate are related, that one can lead to the other. Love and Hate are completely different, but can exist simultaneously with ease. Anything else is just fairy tales.

At this point, I love Walter and I hate him. I can do both, they aren't the same, not even remotely and one doesn't lead to the other.

I think I may love Olivia, but also I think I hate her. I changed because of her and I am dying because of her.

--

It's so quiet now. No light to disturb me anymore. The pain is gone. I think I just need some sleep.

I just need to rest.

A little sleep, then I'll take Walter home.

Yes, the end of the day.

And tomorrow, no more lies.

--

But tomorrow never comes.


	2. Chapter 2

Continuing Lies

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Summary: Walter thinks about lies. How does the damaged father process it?

A/N: All comments, criticisms will be welcome.

--

We found him. Or rather the agents sent by Mister Broyles did.

8 hours after he left the lab to meet Olivia.

8 hours he spent alone in a slow death.

The coroner says that there was nothing we could have done.

The coroner lied.

--

"Yes, dear, that looks lovely"

"You made this cake yourself, it's delicious"

"A handmade card, how original it is"

Lies are merely another aspect of the human condition. We lie almost from the word go. Some of us like to think that we don't lie, or that those little white lies won't do any damage.

It's those little lies, little lies that are painless to use that lead to frequent lies, bigger lies. Lies are told to loved ones to protect their feelings, to friends for numerous reasons.

Indeed, I often think the people we lie to the least are strangers. There is not as much to protect.

I think I can lie.

I think I have lied.

I lied to him. About many things I lied to him. And now I cannot take them back. I cannot take them back as I cannot remember what they were. I cannot take them back as he is no longer here.

Did my lies to him help form his character?

Did his character lead to such a death?

Did my lies lead my enemies to do this?

Who was this message for?

Was it for Miss Dunham?

I wish I could think clearly and not fight myself? If only my memories would focus.

What was I thinking about?

Ah, lies. Lies pervade our existence. Often lies lead us to our deaths. Lies we can no longer outrun.

Maybe if we didn't lie, we wouldn't be where we are. Maybe if I didn't lie to myself, I would not have done what I did and Peter wouldn't have been here to die. Or maybe he would have died anyway.

I think of my now departed son, and think of the lie parents tell their children, "Everything will be alright."

How can everything ever be alright?

--

It's strange. I know I should feel horror about how my son died. At the same time, I am fascinated by the extent of his injuries. Fascinated by the manner in which they were inflicted. The sheer cold directed fury behind these actions was something to behold.

They had had skill, I'll give them that. They made sure that the wounds were painful and if left long enough fatal.

We never found him in time.

His body was a mess. I wonder if we had found him, would he have wanted to be saved?

I estimate that he would never have walked again, never functioned as a normal person again with the damage to his body. The damage was too severe. I think that was the intention.

Could he have lived with having to be taken care of? Being restricted worse than myself?

What about our work? A physically disabled man had no place investigating like he had done. Would he have been allowed to stay? Would he have wanted to?

Who would have looked after him?

Not me. I acknowledge for all my protests that I couldn't have coped with it. He wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

Agent Dunham and her lot would most likely have carted him off. Out of sight, out of mind for them in cases like that. He wasn't one of them, merely an assistant to me, helping them to understand what they cannot comprehend.

No, maybe it is better that he died.

I hate myself sometimes.

--

The truth is always the first casualty. Not just with the enemy but within our allies. Results will always trump truth.

It's a lie we tell ourselves. The truth will always win out.

It won't, history will always be written by the winners.

We lie. We make our own truths, our own distorted versions of the truth. Ones we can live with.

It's something we all do. We all distort the truth, or in some cases ignore it. We fool ourselves and others but it takes a sharp mind to keep track of it all. Most people can only track their own lies, most of them badly. Only a few can not only keep track of their own lies, but also read other people and keep track of their lies and truths. My son, my now dead son, with his brilliant mind and his admittedly dubious proclivities was one such person.

His brilliant mind with so much potential, that he had wasted. Nothing can change that now.

In his life, he lied, he told lies to suit the circumstances. He could follow everything and keep just ahead of it. They think I don't understand or know about a lot of his past, but I found out, people say lots of things around the insane, eccentric scientist without realising it.

When he joined us here, he helped make everything work. He could track the lies, could navigate through it all. He navigated us.

We started to lie too much. We couldn't keep track of it. I lied, I lied about things I could do, things I could remember. I lied about what I would do.

She lies. She lied to get him here and he is dead, she lies about why she does this.

I should have a problem with this. She lied to him to get him here. I don't have a problem with it. I don't. Without her, I wouldn't have got my son back, however reluctant he was.

He is dead because of a lie.

He came back to me because of a lie.

Again, I hate myself, as it seems almost logical that a man who lived a life of lies dies because of a lie.

--

My mind is full of questions, infuriating questions. Questions I can't ask, questions I can't answer.

Why didn't we realise something was wrong?

Why did my son die alone?

Why did I not realise?

Why did she not realise?

Why did she not find him?

Why does she not seem to care?

Why is she shouting at me?

Why is Peter not here?

Will I miss Peter?

Will she miss Peter?

Will anyone else miss Peter?

Some questions I dare not ask, some questions I dare not answer.

--

What do I do now?

Do I want to continue to work here? The challenges remain, the puzzle still unsolved. Why do I have doubts?

Do I stay here?

Who will take his place?

No one can take his place. A new guardian will be appointed, the law will require it, she will require it. It won't be her. Too much responsibility. Amazing someone entrusted with defending the nation, albeit from strange and outlandish threats, will go lengths to avoid personal responsibilities. She won't want to be tied to me. She uses me for answers but beyond that she wants me to be handled by others.

I don't blame her. I know a bit of the past actions I've taken.

I do blame her though. She lies to me about him. Her prejudices about him helped cause this. No matter how much he helped, he would always be an unreliable criminal to her. Thus she can easily disregard his death. She says she is sorry. She is only sorry that he isn't here to help understand the explanations I give her, to bridge the gap between us.

More than do I want to continue, can I continue? Do I want to help her? Do I want to help them?

Do I lie and give an answer?

The answer will be a lie, either way, because I cannot make the decision. I do not know how anymore.

--

We lie to ourselves that things will be better tomorrow. We like to believe that the world will improve, that we will be better than we are today.

It's all a lie. A lie because tomorrow never comes.

Tomorrow never comes to anyone, but now even today is lost to my son.

And now only the lies are left to comfort me.


End file.
